Siddhartha Continued
by lilstarxxvi
Summary: The story of Siddhartha is continued. It takes place a few years after the book ends when an unexpected guest arrives at his door...


Lily Simpson

September 14, 2004

Early one morning, the ferryman, Siddhartha, awoke to a strange man waiting for him inside of his home. The stranger was silently watching as he sat on Vasudeva's empty bed. Siddhartha blinked, thinking he was still asleep and dreaming. When the man continued to sit there, Siddhartha cleared his mind and slowly sat up in his own bed, adjusting himself to face his guest. As Siddhartha's eyes scanned his visitor, he noticed that a dark glow was radiating from his half-hidden face. A black cloak, which was drawn over his entire body, prevented Siddhartha from seeing more than the left side of the stranger's head. Here light that streamed in from a nearby window illuminated his sharp, dark features. The man's troubled but confident eyes stared into Siddhartha's. His hard, frightening gaze made Siddhartha look away quickly, as if simply looking into this man's eyes would cause him physical danger. Siddhartha began to speak but no words came from his arid lips. The man across from him now began to stand, being careful not to break his watch over Siddhartha.

As the stranger crossed the room, Siddhartha pondered why this man was here. What did he want? Maybe he had come in search of Siddhartha's wisdom. Or perhaps he was interested in learning from the river, just as Siddhartha had been when he had first sought the guidance of Vasudeva. While Siddhartha hoped one of these was the reason for this mysterious visit, he had an odd feeling that the man before him had more harmful intentions. Siddhartha's mind began to race and his heart thumped wildly in his chest. He could feel the stranger's bitter eyes upon him. Siddhartha tried to remain calm on the outside but he knew his discomfort must be obvious. When the stranger saw beads of sweat start to form on Siddhartha's brow, his thin lips curled into an omniscient smirk.

"Can I...help you with... something?" Siddhartha stumbled. His voice cracked as his throat was still dry from sleeping. The stranger continued his silent study of Siddhartha as if he didn't know the answer to the question that was just asked.

"Sir?" Siddhartha had a look of confusion on his face. Siddhartha started to ask his original question again but was cut off before he could get the words out.

"You are always wanting to help aren't you? Even to strangers, you are more than generous? You do not know me, Siddhartha. But I know you very well."

The man's firm voice was unlike anything Siddhartha had ever heard. The harsh foreign sound made him feel cold and defenseless. Siddhartha's uncertainty grew with each minute in the presence of his visitor.

"I don't underst– "

"You will, Siddhartha. In time, everything will be revealed. In time, everything will be clear. You see," the dark man said as he settled himself into a small wooden chair close to Siddhartha's bed, "I have been watching you for a while now. I've watched you wake every morning and perform each day's tasks in perfect routine. I've seen how you meditate beside the river and how you interact with the travelers who come to you. You are kind and wise; of these things I am sure. Indeed, I can predict everything that you do before you even know it yourself. The only thing left for me to know is what goes on in your mind. How do you think Siddhartha? That is all I need to learn before I can.... well... that can wait."

"You will excuse my confusion, but I am not accustomed to this sort of talk. Naturally I am flattered by your attention and the time that you have given to me. But, I am not sure why anyone would spend their energy watching a tired, old ferryman do his chores everyday. Surely you have seen how routine I am. Day in and day out, it's always the same. Of course, small changes are made as things come up but you must have been very bored just watching me. Tell me, why have you come here? Why are you so interested in what I think and do?"

"Your modesty is curious to me, Siddhartha. You have the qualities every man should seek. You have achieved what every man should want. Why would a man who has found peace and has no faults that I could see, be confused by my actions? Why do I startle you, Siddhartha? What are you afraid of?"

"I am not afraid of you. I would just like to know why you have come. What do you want from me?"

"That too, will become apparent in time, Siddhartha. For now, if you would be so kind as to meet me outside by the river in a few minutes. I am sure you need some time to gather your thoughts and properly wake up, but this is an urgent matter, Siddhartha, and the quicker you cooperate, the sooner you will understand my visit."

The stranger turned slowly towards the door. At the last possible moment, he smirked once more and sharply turned his head away, breaking his watch on Siddhartha for the first time since he had arrived that morning.

Once the stranger shut the door, Siddhartha struggled to catch his breath and think at a steady pace again. Despite his efforts, he could not organize his thoughts enough to figure out why the man had come. Still puzzled, he got up and prepared himself to go join the cloaked man outside.

When Siddhartha emerged from the hut, he expected to see the bright sunshine and playful waters he had seen out his window when the dark man was still inside. Instead it looked like a storm was coming. The sky was gloomy and the water was ominously calm. The stranger was sitting on a large rock on the riverbank and looking into the water. His black cloak was still draped over him - a perfect reflection of the man wearing it. In a heavy contrast, Siddhartha was donned in head-to-toe white.

"Thank you for coming out so promptly," the stranger said before Siddhartha had even gotten within ten feet of him. Siddhartha wondered if he was being genuine or not.

Siddhartha took a seat on the ground. Even though he was facing the man, Siddhartha kept his eyes on the still waters below. He was tempted to reach down and touch the river as if he could make it flow happily again.

"Please, will you tell me what this is all about?"

"Relax old man, you will understand soon. Just tell the things I want to know and when I am satisfied, I will make all of this clear. Tell me Siddhartha, are you happy with your situation? I know that you have reached your Nirvana, but are you truly happy? Is there anything you desire, any reason to stay here in this life, on this earth?"

Siddhartha shifted nervously on the grassy bank.

"I am satisfied," he responded.

"You want nothing? You have no goals? No aims, no ambitions?"

"I am...satisfied. I am in want of nothing."

"So tell me, if you have no goals, nothing to reach for, if you are truly satisfied with your current state, what then do you live for, Siddhartha. Is a person without goals really a person? Is he living? Or does he just exist? Tell me Siddhartha - do you live, or merely just exist."

Siddhartha sat quietly taking in all that this dark man was saying to him. He felt like running. Who was this man to come and criticize his life? Who was he to come and take it upon himself to question Siddhartha's peace? Of course he was alive. He dreamed and breathed, didn't he? Just because a man's soul is completely satisfied, that doesn't mean that it dies. Or does it? This man was putting thoughts into Siddhartha's mind that didn't belong there. Suddenly Siddhartha was now questioning what he was firmly confident of just an hour ago. Was he alive, or did he just exist? The stranger's words echoed inside of Siddhartha. A dark light was seeping into Siddhartha through every part of his being. Anger rose up through his heart and spread through him like fire. Siddhartha slowly began to raise his head. His eyes met the dark ones in front of him. These challenging eyes that had once scared him were now the enemy. He looked into the solemn eyes and tried desperately to make the stranger break his gaze. As Siddhartha stared hard into the dark eyes, his body began to shake. But still he refused to look away.

"What do you think you are doing, you silly fool? You think that you can intimidate me? Ha! You cannot. I will not look away from you. It is you who will fall, not I! I never fall and I never will. I will never look away. So why don't you just close your tired, pathetic eyes, Siddhartha, you can't win. You're not even really living anymore. So why don't you just give up? Look away. Just roll over and die. Roll over and - "

"No!" Siddhartha shouted. "No, I will not look away. I am not dead. I am living. I will not look away until you do. I will not die until it is time. You cannot change my thinking. I am satisfied and still I am living. You are the fool. I am living. I will not die until death itself comes and gets me. Only then will I look away. Only when death comes to - "

Siddhartha began to choke on his words. Suddenly everything was clear, just as the man had said it would be. Tears began to stream from his trembling eyes. His heartbeat slowed to a steady beat. Siddhartha's solemn heart urged him to look away, but his eyes remained on the stranger who was not so much of a stranger anymore.

"You know who I am now, Siddhartha, don't you," the man said as his devilish smirk spread to the rest of his stern face.

"Yes," Siddhartha said meekly.

"It is time, Siddhartha."

"Yes."

Siddhartha's eyes fell to the ground. He could not look into the treacherous eyes any longer. He could not look into the face of Death.


End file.
